Notes on Life with a Slytherin
by Aerileigh
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots exploring the utter aggravation, periodic insanity, and the occasional total depravity of life with a Slytherin - and along the way, why it can be completely worth it. All Draco/Ginny.
1. On Making a Properly Scandalizing Scene

**A/N: I feel I should explain, before I begin, that _Notes on Life with a Slytherin_ is not to be a regular, chaptered story.**

It will be instead a collection of shorter drabbles and one-shots that, for whatever reason, I don't feel should stand alone as individual stories. Beyond the fact that they will all be Draco/Ginny centric, there are no other connections – each story stands alone, independent of the rest.

Some will be challenges (The DG Forum is chock-full of drabble challenges), while others will be pure invention; since I live with a man who has that trademark smirk down pat, I have notes galore of my own.

These, however, will belong to Draco and Ginny. ;)

* * *

**Explanation for_ this _drabble: **This challenge comes from The DG Forum. Instructions were to take a sentence written in the One Sentence Story thread and flesh it out into a full 300 word drabble.

This drabble was inspired by MemoriesFade's sentence, post #736: "And he has the audacity to try and tell me not to go out," Ginny slurred, dancing on top of the bar, a bottle of aged whiskey in her hand.

It is exactly 300 words, less the sentence above.

* * *

**On Making a Properly Scandalizing Scene**

"Ginny, don't you think you should give it a rest?" Hermione wheedled, prying Ginny's shot glass out of her hand.

Ginny surrendered it with a giggle. "Barkeep! Yes, you, with the wonderful eyes. I'll just take the whole bottle. I can afford it. I'm a _Malfoy_, for Chrissake."

The bar tender grinned and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf. "Have fun, love."

Ginny winked and flipped her hair. "You know I will."

Hermione dropped her head to her hands. "If you weren't such a stupid drunk, I'd leave you to figure out your own way home."

"Draco'd kill you," Ginny said, laughing.

"Draco is going to kill _you_ when he finds that you got this drunk. In public."

Ginny leaned over conspiratorially. "Who's gonna tell him? _I_ know better. The provider of this wonderful bottle, Mr. Wonderful Eyes, does too. Right?" she cried, and was rewarded with another wink.

"Seriously, I think you've had enough—and Draco—"

"Better take off…" Ginny hummed with the music. "Hang Draco. I've got whiskey and Joe Cocker! I'm dancing, damnit!" She pulled herself up onto the bar.

"Ginny, it was just a stupid fight."

"He's a bloody wanker, thinking that the world revolves around him!" she declared. "And he has the audacity to try and tell me not to go out," Ginny slurred, dancing on top of the bar, a bottle of aged whiskey in her hand.

"Really, darling," drawled said bloody wanker. "If we're going to compare audacity, you lose. You're the one wobbling 'round the bar top."

Ginny swore and dropped the bottle.

Sighing, her husband pulled out a stack of Galleons and handed them to the bartender with a word about discretion, then helped Ginny off the bar. "Thank you, Hermione. I think I'll take it from here."

Ginny hiccupped something about revenge, but Draco just smirked at her.

"I think revenge'll wait till morning, once you're sorry and can be properly penitent, like a good girl."

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Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	2. On Quarreling Before Breakfast

A/N: This one was not for a challenge, but rather something to (I hope) inspire my muse to think about a fic I'm writing for an exchange.

Whether it worked or not, it was a lot of fun to write. Thanks go to Soundless Lullaby and . for making me do it. :)

* * *

**On Arguing Before Breakfast**

"Augh!" Ginny's shriek broke the peaceful serenity of the posh penthouse flat. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, I _swear_!"

"Swear what, love?" drawled her husband, his voice coming from his closet. Ginny stalked into the walnut-paneled room to find the tall blond man dressed in nothing but a pair of dark-washed denims. He held up two shirts.

"The black one," she responded automatically. He nodded and gracefully slipped the shirt from the hanger and shrugged it on. He fidgeted with the buttons at his wrist for a moment before expectantly bringing his mischievous eyes to hers.

"I swear if you leave your towel on the floor one more time, I'm going to teach you where bat bogeys come from, and it won't be pretty," she hissed. With something that almost resembled aim, she threw the offending cloth in his face and stalked off to the kitchen before she could change her mind about being angry. It was hard to be furious with a man who had such a beautifully toned chest.

Draco followed her down the corridor and into the kitchen. Ginny reached into the cupboard for a box of cereal, slamming the door with a satisfying bang before glancing at her husband, who was standing, eyebrows raised and towel in hand, in the doorway.

"Buttoning your shirt no longer a priority, darling?" she said, sarcastically flinging the words at him as she hunted for a bowl.

"Not when my wife is throwing things at me," he replied, his voice low.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I've told you a million times to just hang up your silly towel. It's not like—"

"So now you think that you can tell me what to do?" he inquired, idly raising an eyebrow.

"You-you-!" she spluttered, barely managing to pour a bowl of cereal without dashing the marshmallow bits into his brain. She set the box down carefully and took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm trying to _live _with you."

Draco opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton. "Looking for this?" he drawled as she turned toward him.

"Give me the milk, Draco," she spat.

He smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "Telling me what to do again? I think not." He stepped toward her, holding the milk behind his back with one hand.

Furious, Ginny flung open a drawer and pulled out a spoon. She brandished it fiercely and mimicked his expression, arching an eyebrow with so much determination that the malice was lost. "I'll just eat it dry, then," she announced.

Draco laughed—actually_ laughed_. Ginny felt like stamping her foot. On top of his. She wondered if he'd be laughing then.

He set the milk down on the counter beside him and caught her by the shoulders before she could make an exit.

"I hardly think you need to eat it dry, love," he said coolly, the laughter gone from everything but his eyes as he carefully straightened the collar of her blouse.

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm just tired of picking up your damn towels," she said quietly.

"You know, if we accepted the House Elf from—"

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously.

"—But we can talk about that later," Draco finished smoothly.

"But I said—"

Draco shook his head slowly and bent down, gently shutting her up. She didn't bother to fight; it was nearly impossible to stay furious with a man who offered such lovely apologies. He slipped a hand up to cup her cheek, guiding her closer as he sweetened the slow kiss.

He broke it off slowly and ran his fingers across Ginny's warm cheek. "How about we start over, hm? I'll go hang this stupid towel on the rack, and then we can go out and have a proper breakfast. What do you say?"

Ginny bit her lip and glanced longingly at the colorful cereal in her bowl. "Alright," she said.

Draco walked out of the room, holding the errant towel.

"Draco?" she called. "Make sure that you fold—"

"Finish that sentence and I might not be so kind, especially if I have to reign in that tongue of yours again," he called back, rather cattily.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

She'd get him back yet – there was _plenty _of time before lunch.

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Reviews are much loved and wonderfully admired.

This was written in under an hour and was not beta-read, so if you see any errors, please alert me. Thank you!


	3. On Stating a Fact

**A/N:** This challenge was issued by the lovely Lunar Fire at The DG Forum. The requirements were to write a 300-500 word Draco/Ginny drabble including a quote from a book and some sort of public spectacle.

Since I like to make my life as difficult as possible (and because I couldn't choose just one), I have selected quotes from the illustrious American author, Theodore Geisel—better known by his penname, Dr. Suess.

* * *

"I was stating a fact," Draco hissed, plucking Ginny's fork from her fingers before she could use it to spear him.

She glowered, and the silence that spanned their table-for-two was interrupted only by the clink of glass on china and the conversational hum of the late dinner crowd. "A person's a person, no matter how small," she breathed. "You are such a prejudiced _arse_."

Draco coolly balled up his napkin. "I meant what I said and I said what I meant."

"Liar!" A hush fell over the elegant murmur, and Ginny blushed scarlet. "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." She dragged her knife violently through her steak.

Draco slipped the knife from her fingers. "Your niece or nephew is going to be the first Weasley—ever—without pure blood," he said in a low tone.

She polished off her merlot. "Well, I don't like what you're insinuating! Even after all the Wizengamot's post-war trials, blood prejudice is still rampant," she declared, oblivious to the strangers staring over their crème brulee.

Draco sneered, folding his arms. "You think I'm guilty of that level of bigotry? If that's your opinion of me, perhaps we're not meant to be together. That's your choice. You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose."

Ginny gaped at him. "You're breaking up with me?"

"That's up to you," he drawled. "But I'm not about to be with a girl who turns a pleasant night out into a tribunal." He tossed his napkin onto his plate. "What's it to be, Weasley?"

"You're saying this is my fault?" she cried, clasping a hand to her chest.

Draco cast a careless smirk around the room. "I can't fault you for dramatic flair, Gin, but you're the one who turned the evening into an argument."

Ginny stood, grabbing the bottle of wine from the table. "This is_ not_ my fault," she said, turning on her heel and stalking out of the restaurant.

Scowling, Draco threw a pile of Galleons on the table and grabbed the shawl she'd abandoned.

He found her as she kicked a lamppost and turned, gesturing wildly with the bottle of wine. "Look at me! Look at me NOW! It is fun to have fun, but you have to know how."

Draco wrenched the bottle away. "Gin, you're being ridiculous."

Her face crumpled. "I just—I'd had the same thought about Ron and Hermione's baby," she admitted. "I'd pushed it aside. Then, coming from you, it seemed so…awful. I thought maybe I'm as bad as—you know." she finished quietly.

Draco leaned against the lamppost and pulled her into his arms. "Merlin's arse, love. You're going to vie Granger in your love for that child. Not that you need to worry. _Our_ children are going to be pure bloods."

"Draco Malfoy!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "I was stating a fact."

* * *

Quotations taken wildly out of context are from _The Cat in the Hat_, _Horton Hatches an Egg_, _Horton Hears a Who!_, _The Lorax_, and _Oh! The Places You'll Go!_. I tried to work in my favorite, but…well. These things are tricky. I'll include it here:

"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

Isn't that your new favorite quote?

Now, review!


	4. On Eyes and Deceit

No one had eyes like Draco Malfoy.

Not even his father could claim the steely gray eyes that had a mercurial trick of flicking from a charming dove color to a furious, icy calm in one smooth wink, and this morning, they concentrated coolly on the _Daily Prophet_.

"Did the Cannons beat the Falcons?" a voice behind him queried.

He scowled. "Chang caught the Snitch in forty minutes."

Ginny laughed. "I win," she said merrily as she helped herself to an orange.

Draco ignored her until she enthusiastically batted the newsprint with her toast.

"Sulky?" she teased, then sighed. "Hard to believe we're collecting Edmund today."

Draco blinked wearily and folded the page. "_So_ hard to believe," he drawled.

"Think he's grown since Christmas?" Ginny asked thoughtfully.

Draco polished off his tea. "Boys tend to make a habit of such things," he said with a dry grin. "The Portkey to Kings Cross is ready when you are."

* * *

"Darling!" Ginny called, spotting her son's vibrant golden-red hair amid the sea of trunks and students. She jabbed Draco in the ribs. "Told you he'd grow."

Draco scanned the crowd. "Where?"

"There, talking to that pretty blonde girl. Think he has a girlfriend?"

"He's _twelve_, Gin."

Ginny grinned. "It's adorable," she said, pushing her way through the crowd to hug her son. "Who's your friend, darling?"

Edmund sighed. "Mum, Dad, this is Evie Greengrass. Evie, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you, Evie," Ginny said. "I— Draco, are you well? You've gone white."

Draco swallowed. "I'm fine," he said austerely. "But we really ought to head home. I have business this afternoon."

"Right," Ginny said. "Sorry, Evie. Perhaps Edmund can have you over sometime?"

Evie smiled. "Sure. See you later, Eddie!"

Ginny sidled up to Draco. "Evie and Eddie," she whispered. "Isn't that adorable?"

* * *

"He says they're just friends, like sister and brother. Isn't that sweet?" she said pointedly, brushing her hair for bed.

Draco frowned, his eyes dark. "Gin…"

She rolled her eyes. "Only kidding. One child is enough."

"I'm not sure how to explain this," he said, pulling a well-worn journal from his nightstand. He opened it and handed it to her, then sank down to the floor next to the bed.

"Draco, what…?"

"Read the note."

"I'm glad you finally found someone to make you happy. I just wish it could have been me," she read aloud. "Dated just after our wedding."

"Turn the page."

He watched the freckles shift across her face as she frowned, studying the photo he'd memorized long ago.

"Is this baby Edmund?" she asked, her voice flat.

"No," he murmured, his voice catching. "Her name is Evangeline. She was born six months before Edmund."

"You mean you cheated with—_Greengrass_?" she demanded.

"No, Gin. I cheated _on_ her. _With_ you," he breathed, dropping his head to his hands, not daring to look at his wife.

His daughter had his eyes, and he couldn't deny that any longer.

_Fin._

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A/N: Written for Lia's (lncognito) challenge at The DG Forum:

**Prompt/theme:** _betray - to lead astray, deceive_

**Challenge: **You must add this bit of narration in the format of a letter/note in your drabble: _I'm glad you finally found someone to make you happy. I just wish it could have been me._

**Bonus:** a twist.

**Word count:** 500 words, maximum.

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Be a dear and drop me a review, please. I might even be persuaded to continue this tale.


	5. On Cold Feet

"Salazar's arse, Blaise. Did you or did you not grow up in society?" Theodore Nott folded his arms as he watched Blaise Zabini fight with his bow tie in the mirror.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Odd, right? You'd think that one of my step-dads would have found the time to teach me how to tie a bloody bow tie between shagging my mum and dropping dead."

A third man, already dressed and seated sullenly in the corner, found this remark amusing enough for a snort. The other two glared at him.

"What's so funny, Weasley? The fact that you can tie a bow doesn't make you man of the year," Blaise said cattily, then turned back to the mirror. "Merlin, I hate this thing."

"You've got it upside down," a voice said from the door. "Not that it matters."

Blaise arched his eyebrow and adjusted the silk tie. "You might be the groom, Draco, but the matter of my tie is of the gravest import. I have a reputation to uphold."

"I mean I'm not so sure that there will be a need for ties at all," Draco said slowly, folding his arms as he leaned on the doorframe, his elegant dress robes half buttoned, revealing the white dress shirt underneath. "I'm not sure I'm marrying anyone today."

"What?" yelped Weasley, falling off his chair in the corner. "You mean you're going to leave my sister at the altar?"

Draco found an interesting patch of ceiling to study. "Ah, no. I was going to go tell her now, and, you know, break it to her alone."

Nott folded his arms. "May I ask why you're planning to throw away your relationship with Ginny so dramatically?" he asked coolly.

"Yeah!" exclaimed Blaise. "This isn't like you. And I went to all the trouble of this tie—not to mention the stag party to end all stag parties!"

"What stag party?"

"Nothing, Weasley. Draco, what in Slytherin's name is wrong with you?"

Ron stood up and leveled a glare at Blaise and Theo. "If he doesn't want to marry my sister, he's not going to. Good riddance to this bizarre fling, I say!"

Blaise's hand went to his wand, but Theo's hand stayed him. "Weasley, are you suggesting that Draco and Ginny's entire romance has been a fling?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Ron lacked the tact to back down. "Well he's—he's a—" he gestured wildly in Draco's direction. "He's a Malfoy!" he cried. Blaise and Theo looked at one another for a moment.

"What a lovely brother-in-law you'll have, Draco," said Nott, silencing Ron with a quick jinx.

"I'm not having him as a—"

Blaise picked up his wand and, along with Theodore, pointed it at Draco. "Oh, you are. I never thought I'd say so, but you and that are going to be family, by Merlin's nuts."

"You're far too happy with Ginny for us to let you get cold feet," Theo said dryly. "And don't even try to argue. We both know your weak spots."

Draco pulled himself to his full height. "I'm not—you're serious, aren't you?" he asked, glancing at Ron, who was pantomiming Blaise's murder.

Theo nodded stonily, but Blaise burst into laughter. "Draco, I'm wearing a bloody bow tie so that you and Ginny can have your happily ever after. You're marrying her: I don't get more serious than that!"

* * *

This was written for Jayde (SchoolGirlHumor) because I wrote on Facebook that I needed to write something short, sweet, and fast because I'm in a blah mood and couldn't concentrate on my longer projects, and she was first to respond. Here's what she prompted:

"Pre-wedding freakout, groom's side? Groomsmen, half trying to calm him, other half in favor of ditching the bride at the altar?"

Special thanks to Ann (MemoriesFade) for the super speedy beta read.


	6. On Managing the Morning After

Her head _hurt_.

Her head hurt and someone had opened the drapes.

"Shut them," she ground out. "I'm sleeping."

An obnoxious, low chuckle entered her awareness, and she wrenched her pillow from under her aching head and pulled it over her face. "Sleeping," she slurred.

"Oh, but it's such a beautiful morning, darling," the owner of the chuckle drawled insensitively. She felt sharp fingernails drag across her bare back and hissed with pain.

"Don't _touch_ me," she shrieked into her pillow. Ow. Shrieking _hurt_.

The low laughing again. "Oh no?"

"No!" she yelled, ignoring the pain in her—everywhere—as she sat up and glared at the source of her extreme discomfort. "I'm—Draco Malfoy!"

He laughed. "No, _I'm_ Draco Malfoy."

His eyes glittered in the too-bright light of the mid-morning sun, and she blinked at him, unsteady even sitting down. She needed to be back under her pillow, safe in bed. . . .

He was in bed with her, she realized, and in roughly the same state of undress as she was. Which meant—oh, Merlin's sweet _arse_.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled, trying to pretend that she was perfectly in control of her reaction to his presence.

He merely lifted an eyebrow and looked her up and down. "What do you _think_?" he asked suggestively, and leaned toward her. His eyes still shone silver, and she couldn't bear to look at them.

"I'm sick!" she cried, and dove back under her pillow.

The low laugh again. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? He'd clearly already gotten what he wanted.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you _got_ sick, sweetheart," he drawled. "I had no idea you could put away that much Firewhiskey."

"Weasley blood," she muttered into the soft darkness of her pillow. "Holds alcohol."

"Of course it does," he murmured, once again running his fingers over her bare back. A trail of fine goose bumps followed his fingernails, and Ginny shivered involuntarily.

She felt the sheets pull sideways as he slid closer, and hated the warmth of his skin on hers as he sidled up next to her, brushing an errant lock of hair away from her neck as he eased her grip on the pillow.

"I win," he whispered triumphantly in her ear. "And you know it."

She beaned him soundly with the downy pillow and wriggled away. "Win what?" she asked, exasperated.

"Our fight last night. I got _everything_ I wanted," he said, eyeing her meaningfully, "And all you got was a nasty hangover."

Unfortunately, said hangover prevented her from coming up with a nasty retort, and it took her a full two seconds to realize she was gaping at him.

He pulled her aching head into his hands and gently brushed his lips against hers.

"Admit that I was right and I'll give you a hangover potion."

The world was spinning and she was lying down. The show of strength she'd have to make to get to the cupboard in the adjoining bath would not be worth getting sick before she even got out of bed.

"Fine, you git. You were right," she hissed.

He fetched the potion and she drank the contents of the sour phial in one mouthful.

"How'd you do it?" she grumbled as the fog around the edge of her mind started to diminish. She sat up slowly, relieved that his eyes were much more bearable.

"Easy," he drawled. "As soon as you lost your temper, I forbade you from going out with Hermione. And, predictably, you went out with Hermione—the one person who can't tell you no when you've had enough."

"Mr. Wonderful Eyes," Ginny groaned.

Draco snorted. "I didn't think I'd find you on the bar top, but yes, I did have to pay off the barkeep."

"And . . . after?" she wheedled.

He smiled and pushed her back onto the bed, smiling down at her as he arched an eyebrow. "You were, shall we say, penitent?"

"You're despicable, you know that?" She tried to snarl, but the beginning of a smile made a nasty tone nearly impossible.

He bent down to kiss her, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "You knew that when you married me, love."

* * *

This one's a response to Mandirrr's challenge at The DG Forum. Today's the deadline and I thought, "Why not?" and knocked it out in an hour. So it's not my best, but _I wrote something_. Yay, me.

The prompt was: Ginny wakes to find Draco lying in her bed next to her... (Go on from there loves. Try not to make anything too incredibly perverse)

And it made fine sense in my mind to continue on from _On Making a Properly Scandalizing Scene_. So I did. Props if you recognized that early on. ;)


	7. On Keeping Cool

**A/N:** This was written for Mori's "Hogwarts: A Hot, Hot, Hot Summer" challenge at The DG Forum.

The prompt was: _Hogwarts is having a particularly hot summer, and students and teachers deal with the heat. Must have Draco/Ginny as the main pairing, and AT LEAST one other Slytherin/Gryffindor side pairing._ I didn't do any of the bonus points, because I interpreted the prompt a little, ah … loosely. As I am so wont to do.

* * *

_Of course__,_ Ginny mused, _my first term on staff at Hogwarts would be the hottest on record._ It was September, for goodness sake, but it felt like July. July in the _tropics_.

"Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley" whined a small voice near her left elbow. She glanced around to find one of the first years just behind her, swaying slightly in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Damp strands of the eleven-year-old's blonde hair stuck to her forehead, and her cheeks were ruddy. The child was wearing her full uniform, complete with thick woollen robes.

"Sweet Merlin," Ginny swore under her breath. "Miss Creevey, why on earth are you wearing your robes in a heat waves like this?"

The girl panted. "My brother told me I had to," she whined. "Can you please do a cooling charm on me?"

Ginny sighed and performed the spell. "Now go back to your tower and change," she ordered. "And a word of advice? Take what older brothers say with a grain of salt."

She sighed as she watched the small girl skip back into the castle, then pulled her own damp locks off her neck and into a messy bun as she turned back to the lake. There were a few students splashing in the shallow water, thanks to a relaxed rule that allowed them the treat so long as a teacher was there to observe.

So far her experience as the flight instructor and Quidditch program director had consisted of casting cooling charms and playing lifeguard. She wondered for the millionth time that week if accepting this position had been a mistake; playing for the Harpies had been a good job, even though the travel had kept her away from the people she loved.

_It's just this heat making me irritable_, she chided herself. _I'm going to be a good instructor. Make a difference and all that._

"Hot enough for you?" a voice drawled from behind her. Ginny turned to see that, unlike little Miss Creevey, Draco Malfoy had left his robes off, something his predecessor would never have done - but of course, Professor Snape would have never rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned half his shirt, either.

"Mhmm," she muttered noncommittally, then followed up with a healthy eye roll.

He chuckled. "You poor thing, stuck out here in this sun. It's still downright cool in the dungeons, you know."

"I'm not in the mood to hear you gloat about it."

"Maybe I'm in the mood to gloat," he drawled, shading his eyes from the harsh sunlight as he looked out over the lake. "I'm here looking for Nott. Have you seen him? His father's sent me an owl about his 'dalliances' - with one of your nieces, actually -"

Ginny looked at him sharply. "Rose and Robert?"

Draco grimaced. "I know. Not even a week into the term and I'm already getting angry owls."

Ginny shaded her eyes too and looked over the water. Sunlight glinted on the splashing waves and shone off the students' wet hair, but she couldn't make out the shocking red of her niece's head anywhere.

"Ron is going to kill me," she muttered.

Draco smirked. "He's more likely to kill you if Gryffindor doesn't win the Quidditch cup. Which they won't, because my Slytherin team is top notch this year - and because you're not going to be biased, right?" he asked, arching an eyebrow to make his point.

But Ginny had other things on her mind, like how her brother had specifically asked her to keep an eye on Rosie, because_ "__She's a lot like you, and after everything that happened with, um, you know..."_

She glanced sideways at Draco. "You don't think they're-"

He smirked. "If you were a fourth year Gryffindor sneaking off to snog a fifth year Slytherin, where would you go?"

She was halfway to the castle before she heard him exasperatedly order everyone out of the lake. She paused to watch as the students practically tripped over themselves to get out of the water and frowned ruefully as she compared this with yesterday - it had taken her a quarter hour to get all the students out. Minerva had told her that earning respect as a new teacher was hard, but Ginny somehow doubted that students would ever trip over themselves to obey her. Being the Head of Slytherin house had advantages.

"Merlin's arse, you can't just leave them there to drown," he hissed, catching up with her.

"Like I can't leave my fourteen-year-old niece in a broom cupboard with a Slytherin," she said, and ignoring his smirk, she stalked through the nearest courtyard, down a hall, and finally paused before a small, plain door set back in an out-of-the-way alcove.

"Ready?" Draco whispered, grasping the handle, and Ginny nodded. He flung the door open so violently that it banged against the stone of the alcove. A mop clattered out of the dim cupboard, and the noise echoed down the empty hall.

Two pairs of guilty eyes stared up at them. "Bloody hell," said Rose, sounding uncannily like her father.

"I'll say," said Draco, folding his arms as his eyes flashed with a steely gray. "Twenty points from both of your houses - yes, Master Nott, _twenty_. And I'll see you this evening in my office so we can compose a letter to your father. Eight o'clock, sharp. Now go. I need to see you cleaned up and in Potions in twenty minutes."

Robert Nott sighed, gave Rose a sly smile, and obediently fled the scene.

"Aunt Ginny, I-" Rose began, but Ginny cut her off.

"Do you want me to write the letter to your parents, or should I?" Ginny said, trying on her best stern teacher expression and folding her arms to match Draco. However, unlike Rob's quiet, sullen acceptance of his discipline, Rose burst into tears.

"N-no! You know m-my d-d-dad! Aunt G-Ginny, you know what it's l-like to have a f-forbidden love!" She glanced up through teary eyes to look meaningfully at both adults. "I-I-my dad won't understand me like y-you c-can!"

Draco's jaw shifted, and Ginny realized that it wasn't out of stern disapproval - the man was trying to hold back laughter.

"We'll decide tonight. My office, eight o'clock," she sad quickly.

Rose gulped and shoved her bushy red curls out of her face. "Th-thank you," she said, smiling through her tears. "Should I go get cleaned up now?"

Ginny nodded, and her niece went scampering off in the opposite direction.

Draco finally broke out into a full laugh. "Sweet Salazar. 'Aunt Ginny, y-you know what it's l-like,'" he parroted in a remarkably sound impression of a teen-aged girl. "The things that Ron must say about me at home …" he sagged against the doorframe. "I haven't laughed so hard since-probably since you told Ron we were engaged and he tried to have you exorcised."

Ginny ran her thumb over the heirloom ring on her left hand and batted him gently with her right. "Shut up, you. I happen to sympathize a bit with the poor girl."

"Well, I happen to know exactly what's going through young Nott's brain, and let me tell you, there's nothing there to be sympathetic about. Nothing at all," he said, straightening up and grabbing her hand. "But don't worry. I'll make sure his intentions are … honorable. Unlike mine."

She considered the darker glint in his eyes, then allowed him to pull her close and kiss her gently. "Not a bad job with the discipline, either," he murmured. "Though one day I trust you won't copy my every move."

She kissed him again and tugged toward the broom cupboard. "I happen to like your moves, Mr. Malfoy. Now, how long until that class of yours starts?"

He grinned and slipped his free hand around her waist. "Long enough, love. Gods, I'm happy you agreed to come work here. It's going to be a wonderful year - once this hellish weather ends."

And with that, he closed the cupboard door behind them.

* * *

**A/N:** Not my finest work, but hey, it's something. :)

One day I'll have to count how many "Surprise! They're actually together!" drabbles I've written. I'm sure it's more than I'd care to admit. I need another 'twist' to keep in my back pocket … but the only thing that comes to mind is "Surprise! They're actually dead!" and well, that's just depressing.

Reviews make me grin like a loon. And since I get emails on my phone and check them compulsively all day and night, you could be just SECONDS away from making me smile. And how often do you get to make a writer smile? Just sayin'. ;) 


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